


Do I, Do You, I Do

by Siria



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-31
Updated: 2006-12-31
Packaged: 2017-10-03 22:45:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siria/pseuds/Siria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If life lived near the Athosians for the past few years had taught John anything, it should have been to avoid men with long hair and beards who offered you liquor brewed to an ancient family recipe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Do I, Do You, I Do

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Amsie.

**1.**

If life lived near the Athosians for the past few years had taught John anything, it should have been to avoid men with long hair and beards who offered you liquor brewed to an ancient family recipe. But John's never been good at any of that life lesson stuff, no matter how much Teyla or Elizabeth may cluck over him—which is, he supposes, when he attempts to sit up that morning, why he keeps getting into situations like these, finding himself in a ditch on an alien planet with one hell of a hangover, McKay passed out next to him and what, on closer inspection, turns out to be a pair of boxers sitting on top of his head.

They're not his.

John's still alcohol-befuddled brain is attempting to solve the problem of the magically appearing underpants when Kerstan's face appears over the top of the ditch, obnoxiously cheerful even though he had easily consumed three times as much of his particular brand of rotgut as John had.

"Snookums!" he booms. "I trust you both slept well?"

John blinks at him for a moment through the fog of hangover, before his ears assure him that no, he heard correctly, and he is forced to fall back on the politeness which his pious Southern Baptist grandma beat into him as a child. "I beg your pardon?"

"Am I mispronouncing it?" Kerstan says, frowning. "I would not wish to give offence! But that is how you said it last night—you were very insistent that you should be referred to as such in celebration of your nuptials. Your honoured spouse indicated that the change of names was very important amongst your tribe."

"Nuptials?" John manages, struggling to sit upright, wincing at the pain in his head and the sight of some very unmistakable stains on his BDUs. "Spouse? I got _married_?"

Next to him, Rodney stirs and groans and makes vague retching noises.

"Ah, you are awake!" Kerstan beams. "Good morning, Pudding Cup!"

John lets himself fall backwards into the mud, sending up a spray of ditchwater, and groans. He really had better start learning.

**2.**

"When Carter asked for my help, I really didn't envision anything like this—"

"Shut up, Rodney."

"I mean, come back to Earth, sure. Help her foil another no doubt nefarious plot of the NID's and win her eternal gratitude, sure."

"Shut _up_, Rodney."

"But I was envisaging, I don't know. Hacking into heavily encrypted mainframes. Duels at dawn. _Mission Impossible_-style escapades, sans Tom Cruise the Dickless Wonder. Not going undercover, because really, I'm not being falsely modest here when I say that I really, really suck at subtlety—"

"Rodney."

"And here? In Vegas? At the Luxor? Are we entirely sure that this is not just some overly elaborate indication of Jack O'Neill's sick, sick sense of humour?"

"_Rodney_," John ground out, and finally Rodney turned to look at him.

"What?"

"If you say one more word to me, _one more_," John said, voice as low and even and deadly as Rodney had ever heard it, "I will make sure that Carter knows next time, you're the one in the skirt."

Then he dumped the suitcases on Rodney's foot and stomped over to reception, high heels clicking and the hair of his long, dark wig bouncing on his shoulders. "Hi," he said to the receptionist, smile sweet and charming, "Mr and Mrs McKay to check in, please."

**3.**

Thor gave them what is no doubt the Asgard equivalent of a radiant smile. "I understand that this is considered to be a blessing amongst your people, on the consummation of a marriage?"

Rodney looked like a smacked guppie, mouth opening and closing weakly. John suspected he looked much the same, though perhaps his expression was tinged with a little awe that this, _this_, was what it finally took to shut Rodney up.

"You made us a _what_?" Rodney managed finally.

"A child!" Hermiod said. "Cloned from genetic samples we obtained from both you and Colonel Sheppard. Do not be apprehensive, he should age exactly as normal, and we have managed to get the balance between intelligence and personality correct now."

The child, the boy—their _son_—stood next to Hermiod, probably only four years old biologically but already easily as tall as the Asgard, with John's eyes and Rodney's smile, a gleam of mischief in his eye that could be attributable to either of them. "Dadda!" he crowed, flinging himself across the room to wrap his arms around John's leg.

"Fuck," John and Rodney said in unison.

**4.**

"Rodney," John yelled up the stairs, "Where's the joint cheque book?"

"Why?" Rodney yelled down the stairs.

"Need to write Marietta a cheque for extra after yesterday, or she's threatening to quit."

"In my defence," Rodney said, coming to the top of the stairs, "I didn't know that bubblegum _could_—"

"Whatever," John said. "Cheque book?"

"It's in the mail."

John frowned. "But it was only half used, no way we could need a new one." Rodney shifted a little uneasily. It was a warning sign John had come to recognise. "What did you do, Rodney?"

"Nothing! It was just that, well, they needed some slight adjustments."

"Rodney."

A tilt of the chin. "In three to five working days, we will now be able to write cheques from Brigadier General John Sheppard—"

"_Rodney_. That promotion isn't—"

"And Dr Rodney McKay, PhD PhD PhD _PhD_."

"Is it really necessary to add the fourth one?"

"_Yes_."

**5.**

"Colonel Sheppard-McKay?"

"Doctor McKay-Sheppard?"

"Colonel McKay?"

Sweetly, "Doctor Girlfriend?"

Tersely, "Major Asshole?"

"Hey, my promotion was four years ago—that's Colonel Asshole to you."

"Asshole-_McKay_, thank you so much."

"Sure, Rodney, if you insist."

"Is that any way for someone to refer to their spouse?"

"No, but it's _my_ way of referring to _you_."

"How special."

"Not so different from how it always is."

"I like to think marriage hasn't changed me." A pause. "I—I'd like to think it hasn't. With us, I mean, it hasn't"

"_Rod_ney."

"Well—mmpfh."


End file.
